


Well If We Just Talked About It--

by Curlscat



Category: Mairelon the Magician - Patricia Wrede
Genre: F/M, ace Kim, rating just because we have to talk about sex to talk about being a sex repulsed ace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 11:16:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11873223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curlscat/pseuds/Curlscat
Summary: Marriage to Mairelon sounds all well and good (better than that), until Kim starts thinking about just what is involved in being a wife. It's not the stews, but it's still... that.Kim doesn't want to have sex, ever. This is how it works out.





	Well If We Just Talked About It--

Kim was engaged to Mairelon for nearly two months before she realize she’d be expected to bed him. 

Lady Wendall made an offhand comment about the nursery at the townhouse being sadly wanting, and that they would probably need to fix that within a year, and Kim froze, because--

Lady Wendall was too old to have children, as was Mrs. Lowe. Or at least, they ought to be, with sons nearer thirty than anything else. And Andrew Merrill wasn’t married. Which left Kim.

And Kim knew how one went about making a baby.

“Kim, dear, are you feeling quite well?” Lady Wendall said, suddenly. “You look rather peaked.”

“I’ve got to go,” Kim said, rushing out of the room, leaving Mrs. Lowe sputtering behind her.

A baby meant she and Mairelon would have to-- and-- and not just once. Married people were expected to have a lot of tumbles.

Of course, Mairelon (Richard, she was to call him Richard now), as far as she knew, had never hired a doxy, so he might be less inclined towards bedding than most men. She could… if it were only once in a while, she could do that. She’d been through worse. And she was fonder of Mairelon than she’d ever been of anyone. If she had to bed someone, she’d want it to be him.

But not ten days from now! She wasn’t ready. She knew, generally, how bedding worked. She knew what went where, and such. But that was not  _ enough _ , somehow, not when the prospect of doing it herself was staring her in the face, threatening her.

***

She went to Renee.

When Renee finally made it into her sitting room, Kim, who had held it together pretty nicely, she thought, getting here, was now in a right state. It was all she could do not to break down sobbing.

“Kim, what is wrong?” Renee asked, apparently worried at something in Kim’s expression, as she gestured for her to sit.

Kim was filled with so much nervous energy that the idea of sitting was intolerable. Instead, she paced, and gave a garbled explanation of what was bothering her so much, with many stops, starts, and restarts.

Once Renee managed to understand what Kim was going on about, she said, “It does not have to be as bad as all that, no? It can be quite pleasurable for the woman, I am thinking.”

Kim blinked at Renee. This was a thought that had not occurred to her before now. Of course, life for married women wasn’t exactly like the stews. They weren’t often… haggard, or ill. But still. How could it be… pleasurable? 

“I think it would be best if you sat,” Renee said.

Kim, who had switched, somewhat, from terrified to befuddled, sat obediently.

“Has no one told you about the facts of life? Renee asked, suddenly.”

“I know… some,” Kim said, shifting.

There followed a long conversation, mostly one sided, and very uncomfortable, about how, exactly, one could keep from having a baby if she didn’t, for some reason, want one (Kim had never particularly thought about children, but she knew it wasn’t something she’d want to rush into, that was certain), the various things one could do in bed, or have done to herself. Renee also mentioned that the best way to avoid getting any of the terrible diseases Kim had seen in the stews was to avoid bedding someone unless you knew they had not taken a tumble with anyone who could have caught it. Kim rather thought this would not be a problem, but she might as well ask Mairelon--  _ Richard _ \-- just in case.

There was also tea, and biscuits, and Kim went home feeling-- well, not good, but better. She could do this. Renee might even be right. She might… like it. Not bloody likely, but it could happen.

***

The wedding was fine. Kim knew most of the people in attendance through Mairelon, but he’d managed, somehow, get some of her old friends there. She was grateful to see at least one person she’d known growing up. So grateful. She could have kissed him. Did, in fact. The party afterwards was fun, in the way parties can be, though she still felt like a novelty in most of these people’s eyes. The guttersnipe who was playacting at being a lady.

And then it was off to France, just the two of them, for reasons that were completely above board and had nothing to do with Shoreham and some rumours he wanted investigated. At all.

They were settled into their hotel (not an inn, a hotel. How were they supposed to investigate from a  _ hotel _ ?) by the time Kim really remembered how nervous she was about the night’s events. Or, well, dreading them, really. She could do it,  _ would _ do it, for Mair--Richard. But she didn’t  _ want _ to. Renee’s talk about it being fun, if done right, was all well and good, but Kim couldn’t picture herself enjoying it, no matter how she tried. It just sounded… uncomfortable, and rather disgusting. Awful.

But she’d do it.

In true Mairelon fashion, Richard noticed exactly the things Kim didn’t want him to.

“I don’t mean to sound egocentric, Kim, but you don’t look as happy as I’d expect a new bride to look on her wedding night. You seemed fine on the trip here; is something wrong?”

Kim bit her lip and said, “It’s just… I’ve no idea what I’m doing. I mean, I know what comes next, but I’ve never done it before, and I’m bound to muck it up somehow.”

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I’ve never.. done ‘it’ either.”

That did make Kim feel better. A little. Except…

“You don’t seem very reassured,” Mairelon noted.

Kim swallowed, and looked out the window at the streets of Calais. France was not all that different from England, as far as she could see. Rather a lot like it, actually. Toffs walking about in fancy dress; people who could have been her, a few years back, darting around corners; cabbies and lamplighters and the like going about their business.

“Kim,” Mairelon said. He said it softly, like he was a little worried.

“It’s just--” Kim burst out, then stopped. She took a deep breath, started again. “I’ve no need for a tumble, and Renee said it could be good, if the man knows what he’s about, but you’ve as little to go on as I’ve got, and it all just sounds so--  _ awful _ , and I don’t  _ want _ it.” 

Kim found she wanted to cry.

“Don’t want to be married, or don’t want to go to bed together?” Mairelon asked, still soft and worried, and now a little sad.

“I’ve no idea about marriage,” Kim said. “I imagine we’ll just go on as we have been, mostly, which is good. I like you, and I like kissing well enough, and I don’t want any of that to stop just because I ain’t--” She stopped again. _Ain’t_ _the kind of woman you ought of married_ would just make Mairelon indignant, same as he had gotten when Mrs. Lowe suggested it was improper for Kim to call her husband Mairelon all over the place, instead of by his proper name. Kim rather thought it would be good for her to call Mairelon Richard, at least around other people, so’s they knew who she was talking about, but he got on his dignity about it.

“You know, we don’t  _ have _ to do anything,” Mairelon said thoughtfully. 

Kim turned to look at Mairelon in the face for the first time since this very awkward conversation had started.

Mairelon smiled at her. “I mean it,” he said. “I’ve gone this long without… doing anything, I rather think I can wait until you’re ready.”

“What if I’m never ready?” Kim asked, after a pause.

Mairelon shrugged easily. “As I’ve no idea what I’m missing, I suppose I’ll be fine.” He got a twinkle in his eye as he said, “I promise to warn you before I go off and hire a doxy, if the need becomes overwhelming.”

Kim rolled her eyes and went to sit down next to her husband.

“It’s rather a good thing I’m a younger son,” Mairelon said thoughtfully. “I mean, I imagine a child would get in the way of the sort of things you and I will be doing for a while, but we’d need to have one eventually, if it wasn’t for Andrew. Mother would be most upset if I were to let the estate fall into my cousin’s hands. As it is,” he said with a smile, “that’s Andrew’s problem.”

“You-- you really don’t mind?” Kim asked. “That I ain’t--”

“Aren’t,” Mairelon said.

“That I’m not like to take you for a tumble ever?”

“Kim,” Mairelon said, voice serious and quiet and fond, “I didn’t marry you because I wanted to get you undressed.”

Kim gave him a little half smile and said, “You married me because I’m one of the only duffers mad enough to come with you on your noddlecocked adventures.”

Mairelon, who had no problem with cant, as long as it was in the form of proper grammar, said, “Quite. And Hunch approves of you.”

The unspoken terror of losing each other, should the marriage not have happened, hung between them silently. A world in which Kim and Mairelon did not marry was a world in which Kim would eventually have to go off and marry someone else, or go back and find herself a job somewhere, because she couldn’t keep living off Mairelon’s charity forever. And that distance would have been unbearable.

“What do we do tonight, then?” Kim asked.

“Whatever we wish,” Mairelon said brightly. “A honeymoon is for the newlyweds to spend in happiness, after all.” He smiled at her. “So what do you want to do tonight?”

Kim smiled brightly at her husband. She felt as if the weight of the world had lifted off her shoulders, and she was now utterly excited for the rest of their honeymoon. She wouldn’t have to do what she’d been so upset by, and Mairelon wasn’t upset. And they could do anything else they wanted to. Anything at all.


End file.
